


Dead Bite

by ShutUpGinger (Chameowmile)



Series: Old Stories [2016] [5]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, apocalypse AUs are my only weakness, bite victim Hux, kind of a sick fic, more of an idea drabble than anything, though I do plan to continue this, zombie apocalypse AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 18:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6206413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chameowmile/pseuds/ShutUpGinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ben is first alerted to the other man’s presence by his quiet, pitiful sobbing. Initially, he mistakes him to be a member of the undead, because of the way he's limping, hunched over himself and covered in blood, but his pitiful sniffling soon provides otherwise."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Bite

**Author's Note:**

> Emetophobia warning for this installment  
> And probably also a minor blood/gore warning, though this chapter isn't particularly explicit

-Hux-  
His body aches, and his vision swims, but he’s determined to make it back to his home before he...well...before he dies, he supposes.

An unpleasant prickling sensation ripples up the nape of his neck and up across his scalp, to the point that he’d like to claw it off.

But he doesn’t. Because that would be troublesome.

He stumbles in through the back door of the townhouse he’s been sheltering in, and barely manages to get inside before he’s on his knees, coughing up a mouthful of blood and bile onto his laundry room floor.

He heaves a few more times, before shakily extricating himself from the scene, and managing to make it a few more feet before toppling into a heap on his side. 

Everything hurts.

One more bullet and he could’ve taken himself out before the infection started spreading.

One more bullet and he never would have been bitten in the first place.

-Ben-  
Ben is first alerted to the other man’s presence by his quiet, pitiful sobbing. At first, he had mistaken him for one of the undead, because of the way he was limping, hunched over himself and covered in blood, but his pitiful sniffling soon provided otherwise.

It’s difficult to say why the brunette followed, even after seeing the bite, but when the man finally collapses inside what must be his home, Ben’s “watch don’t touch” rule kind of goes out the window and he finds himself hoisting the injured wretch into his arms, where he carries him into the living room and lies him down on the couch.

He’s pale and far too hot, a bloodied patch swelling out across his stomach, and another dribbling from a defensive wound on his left arm. He’s limp as death, and is making awful heaving noises, that make Ben worry he may be aspirating.  
Contrary to popular belief, it’s not usually the bite that kills.

The human mouth is disgusting in general, especially after a person dies, so it’s honestly just good old fashioned blood poisoning that makes people sick like this. And in their sickness, it’s often complications that finally ends them.

It’s completely possible to survive if you’ve got the right arsenal for it.

Ben makes sure to check that the man’s throat is clear, and that it’s just some spasms making that awful noise, before he reaches back into his bag to retrieve his medical kit.

The supplies in it are rare and very valuable, but he doesn’t think about that as he recovers a couple vials of morphine, some antibiotics, and a fresh syringe from it.

He injects the morphine immediately, and the man’s pitiful noises die down as he goes even limper than before, allowing Ben to drench his wounds in Iodine and alcohol without the pain waking him up or causing him to go into further shock.

The process of cleaning bites is tedious. An endless cycle of Iodine, rubbing alcohol, Povidone Iodine, and then general Iodine again as he waits for the fizzing to stop and injects a localized antibiotic into the wounds.

He does also inject some directly into the man’s veins, but it isn’t until after he’s certain the guy is out cold that he also ends up shoving a tube down his throat to get some fever reducers and oral antibiotics into him too.

The wound on his stomach looks bad but isn’t actually all that deep. Just messy where one of those things ripped the flesh off of him, so once that’s clean, he bandages it tightly and leaves it be.

By the time Ben is done, sweat is dripping into his eyes and the sun has begun to set.

His family will be worried. He never spends the night out, but as the fizzing finally stops from the iodine, and he gets the sickly man bandaged up, he decides that that’s just gonna have to do, because his victim is still too weak to be moved, and Ben’s vision isn’t good enough for them to travel after dark, anyway.

Worse yet, the entire reason he was out here in the first place was to find batteries for his Walkie Talkie, so he won’t be able to contact his parents or group until tomorrow, when he returns to them. Fortunately they’re planning to stay in this town for two more days, so as long as they don’t come looking for him, everything should be okay.

He gently checks the man’s pulse, and sighs. It’s a little stronger than before, but he’s still out cold, and weak from the most likely stressful treatment.

Ben scoops him back up again to move him somewhere more comfortable.

The man moans quietly at the adjustment, but doesn’t wake up.

He’s surprisingly lightweight, and so, Ben has no trouble carrying him up the stairs, where he hopes to find a bedroom to tuck him away in.

In the end, he finds two.

It occurs to him as he enters the closest bedroom how clean everything is.

The home is _very_ pristine, and surprisingly well furnished for a place that should be dusty, picked over, and falling apart.

It’s almost as if the world never ended within these four walls.

He wonders if this man has been living here this entire time. 

That would be what, ten years? Fifteen?

Okay, yeah, probably hasn’t been here that long.

Regardless, Ben likes what he did with the place.

Gently, he makes his way over to the queen sized bed, and lays the man down, where he moves to pull his patient out of his jeans and jacket, figuring the stiff denim probably won’t be comfortable for when he wakes up.

It occurs to him that the man may never wake up...not really...but he doesn’t dwell on that as he tucks the guy in and gently brushes the hair from his face.

He’s not bad looking.

Pale, in a way that indicates he’s probably not the sort to leave his home much, and redheaded.

Ben can’t remember the last time he saw a redhead.

Or anything besides brunettes for that matter. 

His interest is certainly piqued.

He swallows, and sits down beside the man.

He had intended to just leave him here and sleep in the other room. Check up on him in a few hours since it’s not safe to be lying so close to someone who could die and eat him at any moment, but he kind of wants to stay.

He doesn’t really see a-lot of new people these days.

He knows he should probably check the guy’s cupboards for rations to steal, but instead just pulls off his own jacket to use it as a pillow, and closes his eyes.  
***

When Ben wakes back up again, the man is gone.

He jerks upright, snapping his head around frantically, in an effort to locate him, but no zombie is trundling around the room, and when he looks, he sees that the door is open, and his medkit is gone from where he left it resting on the nightstand.

In its place is a stack of homemade preserved goods. Jarred soups, veggies, and fruits, some dried meats and baked nuts, and something clear that he’s going to guess is moonshine. 

There’s a small note that simply says, “Thanks.” and on the other side, “Anything else you find you can take. I’m not staying here anymore.”

He knits his brows in confusion at that, and looks around. The man most certainly wouldn’t have been in any condition to travel this morning, but he supposes it can’t be helped, when he’s clearly already left.

Something tells him that they’ll be meeting again, however.

**Author's Note:**

> cliff hangerrr  
> don't worry I'm writing more lol
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment or kudos  
> or find me over at kevin-the-chicken.tumblr.com


End file.
